Pretty Girl
by Sophia Hawkins
Summary: Oneshot AU. Hank Voight comes to New York to team up with Manhattan SVU and meets Olivia Benson for the first time, when William Lewis breaks out of prison and comes looking for her.


Pretty Girl

Author's note: After the second Law and Order SVU:/Chicago P.D. crossover, I decided to do a story about Voight and Olivia because they really showed excellent chemistry working together. Everybody can read into it what they will but for the record, it's not romance but I think it does a nice job bordering on it. This is my first time attempting a crossover, so I hope you all enjoy.

"Hey pretty girl, stay with me."

Olivia's head was swimming, but she could hear those words, and she knew that deep, gravelly voice. She would swear she knew who was saying them, but she just couldn't think.

"Hey pretty girl, open your eyes."

The voice seemed to be closer now, more familiar, she could _almost_ say the name. She could feel a hand running through her hair and over her forehead.

"Hey pretty girl, it's all over. You're gonna be alright now. Just stay with me, okay?"

A groan escaped her lips as she forced her eyes open. Her head hurt, she felt groggy, and nauseous, she didn't know where she was or remember what had happened, but slowly it came to her that she was on a cold street somewhere. And someone was with her. She got her eyes to focus upward, and saw a familiar face, not _too_ familiar…

"V…Voight?"

Sergeant Hank Voight of the Chicago P.D. smiled at her, "Hey Sergeant Benson, glad you could make it."

Olivia tried to get up but he put a stop to that real quick.

"Whoa, don't move too much yet, we gotta get the medics to look you over first."

"Wha…happened?" Olivia tried to remember, but it was still a blur.

"It's alright," was all Voight said to her.

Olivia's neck was killing her, she tried to move it, maybe get it to pop.

"No don't look," Voight told her.

But it was too late. Olivia turned and saw a man laying sprawled out in the middle of the street, covered in blood. Her breath stopped, her heart stopped. William Lewis. Her breath returned, short and shaky, almost hyperventilating automatically, and she frantically tried to get out of Voight's grasp and get up.

"It's alright, it's alright," he assured her as he held her down, "He's dead…believe me, he's dead…he's not going to come after you or _anybody_ again."

"No…no," Olivia was torn between hysteria and all-out sobbing, "You don't know him, you don't know what he can do."

"I know what he can't," Voight told her, "Three days' time _his_ stone's going to stay right where it is."

Olivia stared straight ahead at the bloody body of the almost invincible mass serial killer, who had eluded identification, capture, and incarceration for so long. No, he couldn't be dead, it was a trick, he was still alive…she'd beaten him senseless with a pipe until he should've been dead and he was _still_ alive, then he'd gone to prison, and _then_ he'd broken out. _That_ was what had been going on tonight. She remembered now. Voight had come out from Chicago because there was a possibility that Lewis was the killer in a couple unsolved homicides over their way; and he'd insisted on seeing for himself that Lewis was still locked up in Rikers. But no, he hadn't been, he had escaped, and he had already left three new bodies in his path on his way to finding Olivia, and he _had_ found her, just two blocks from SVU, so close and yet so far, she couldn't radio help, she couldn't call 911, she couldn't call to anyone passing by for help, she couldn't do anything, he was there and he had a gun on her and he was ready to shoot and he made sure it would be where he could do optimal damage and still she'd live to suffer through it.

And then, like a miracle, she'd heard somebody coming, _somebody_ who could help.

"Get your hands up before I blow your brains out." It had been Voight. Olivia hadn't been too hot about him coming out to Manhattan to discuss cross-cases with her, but she was _very_ thankful now that he'd made the trip. She never thought she'd be so glad to see a cop with his gun drawn and ready to shoot.

Lewis had come prepared. He pulled out a badge that he'd stolen off a cop he killed earlier in the night. "It's alright, I'm on the job…and _this_," he gestured to Olivia with his gun, "Is a dirty cop."

Voight was all but deadpanned as he kept his gun aimed at Lewis and replied defiantly, "I don't care if you're the pope, asshole, you drop the gun and get your hands up if you want to take another breath."

"Did you hear me?" Lewis said, "She is a dirty cop, do you know _what_ she did?"

"Nothing compared to what I could do," Voight assured him, "You don't drop the gun, I'm blowing your fucking brains out."

Lewis dealt his hand, by raising the gun to aim for Olivia's head, "You sure about that?"

"Oh yeah," Voight said without missing a beat, "I'll turn you to Swiss cheese before you get one off. You think I won't? Go ahead and try."

Lewis already had his finger on the trigger, it curved at the knuckle just as he started to squeeze it.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

Olivia screamed at the top of her lungs, whether from fear, or from shock, or horror, or anything, it didn't seem to matter to Voight. He still had his own finger on his own trigger, even though Lewis had gone down with one between the eyes, one in the forehead, two in the face, one in the neck and one in the chest. He regarded the body laying on the ground as if he actually _did_ expect the bastard to pop up and try again. Any _one_ of the shots probably would've done it, but there was no doubt, Lewis was dead as a doornail.

Olivia reeled around and moved to get away, still not sure if _she'd_ been hit or not. She staggered a few steps away and suddenly collapsed on the ground, fainted dead away, and hit the back of her head on the way down, concerning Voight because when she did, her head made a sound similar to a pumpkin being split open. He'd called in an ambulance and the cops to get their asses out there and wrap everything up, and had stayed with Olivia and tried to bring her back around before the paramedics got there.

"He's not dead," Olivia choked out over fresh tears, she knew him too well, she knew what he was capable of, "He's _not_ dead."

"Shh, shhh, believe me, he is," Hank told her, "He couldn't be anymore dead if I cut his head off and handed it to him."

Olivia slowly brought her hands up towards her face and let herself fall to pieces. Hank tried to keep her calm, and also kept her from moving too much, though he _did_ see now that the hair on the back of her head was covered in blood, trying not to touch her too much, he smoothed some of the hair back to see a small spot on the back of her head that was bleeding. Looking towards the ground he thought he spotted the culprit, a small rock where she fell down, _that_ must've been what she hit her head on when she fainted. He was actually relieved when he heard the ambulance siren wailing and saw the lights as it finally pulled up and the paramedics got out.

"It's alright," he told Olivia as he saw the paramedics coming over, "They're going to take a look at you and make sure you're fine, okay?" Olivia was beyond words right now but she did manage a small nod, "Okay, I'll be right here the whole time, it'll be alright."

Olivia saw the two men in their early 30s come over to her to examine her. Her mind was reeling, she couldn't think too straight but she had an idea of what was going to happen now. They would ask her questions to see if she knew them, to determine if she'd suffered severe brain damage or something like that. She decided before they had a chance _to_ ask anything, she would give them the answers.

"My name is Olivia Benson…" she was blinded but otherwise unfazed as one man shone a bright light in her eyes to check for dilated pupils, "Today is Wednesday, April 9th, 2014, I work for Manhattan Special Victims Unit…my mother's name was Serena Benson, she was an English professor…"

"Don't turn your head," Voight told her.

"I won't," she said quietly.

It didn't take long for the paramedics to determine she had a concussion, they didn't believe it was a serious one but all the same wanted to take her to the hospital to check everything out. Olivia couldn't turn her head much but she looked to Voight questioningly.

"It's alright," he told her, "I'll be right behind you."

"Okay…" she turned towards the paramedics again and told them, uncertainly, "Okay, I'll go."

* * *

Olivia had no sense of time, and her memory was a blur too. The doctors had said they wanted to keep her for a couple days for observation to make sure nothing developed undetected, but they were optimistic that she'd be fine to go home in a couple days. Against her will, she'd traded her clothes for one of the hospital's typical paper gowns and had eventually fallen asleep in the hospital bed in her room.

She'd been trying to sleep when she heard a knock at the door. "Who is it?"

The door opened and Voight showed himself in, "How're you doing?"

Olivia groaned and kept her eyes closed, "My head's killing me."

"Yeah, I talked to the doctors," he told her as he shut the door, "Said you'll probably have a good size headache for a few weeks. Still, considering the alternative I'd say you got lucky."

"Considering _all_ alternatives," Olivia suddenly forced her eyes open and said, "If you hadn't come along…"

"Hey," Hank waved her off, "Don't think about it."

"I can't help it," Olivia sat up, "You have no idea what I've been through because of William Lewis."

Maybe it was the pain, maybe it was finally knowing the nightmare was actually over, for whatever reason, Olivia found herself spilling her guts to Voight for the next two hours about _everything_ that had happened since they first found out about William Lewis. And for two hours, Voight remained seated in a chair beside her hospital bed, taking in every word, saying nothing, letting Olivia purge herself and finally get out everything she hadn't been able to say to her partners, IAB or the courts. Then when she finished telling him about that, she started going further back, to Elliot, to the shooting that resulted in him leaving SVU, and how she'd tried contacting him since and he'd never answered, never got back to her, even when she needed him, after the first Lewis ordeal. For a while she'd be alright, then as she recalled more details, she'd start crying and would be almost incoherent, then she'd calm down again and continue, then break down again and carry on, towards the end she started to think that he thought she was nuts. Hank never said one word, but when she finally got the last words out, he took her hand in his and gave it a firm, reassuring squeeze to let her know she wasn't alone in this now.

After a while, when Olivia was finally able to calm down, and everything became quiet, Voight straightened himself in his chair and said to her, "So he wasn't attacking you when you beat the hell out of him with the pipe."

Olivia couldn't even look at him now, she trained her eyes to stare down at her legs that were covered with the sheet and shook her head, "No."

"He was tied up when you did it. You know what your mistake is, don't you?" Voight asked. Olivia looked up to him uncertainly, and without missing a beat he told her, "You should've just killed the bastard the first time around."

"I swear, I thought I had," Olivia said, "I didn't think _anybody_ could survive that."

"Well, it's all moot now anyway," he told her, "Now the bastard's finally dead, and you won't have to worry about him anymore."

"People still aren't going to believe that he was guilty," Olivia told him.

"He killed 3 people in one night upon his breakout of prison _this_ time," Voight reminded her, "They'll _know_ he was guilty."

"You know how the public is, they hear somebody was abused, mistreated, and suddenly all the people they killed with no regard and no remorse take a backseat," Olivia said, "I've seen it before, Fin's nephew Darius…"

"Don't you worry about a thing," Voight told her as he let go of her hand and calmly ran it over her hair, "There's not going to be a person left in this city who won't think he had it coming. In any case, _you_ weren't the one that pulled the trigger on him, _I_ was, so if IAB wants to come after anybody, it'll be my ass they try kicking, the joke's on them, I don't work here as it is."

In spite of everything, Olivia found herself laughing at that, but even laughing proved too painful for her for it to last.

"Easy, pretty girl," Voight said as he lightly stroked her face, "Don't strain yourself."

Olivia felt the fatigue in her body starting to win over, she knew she wouldn't be able to stay awake for much longer. She remembered him talking to her when he was waiting for the ambulance to come, she remembered him calling her 'pretty girl' back there too.

"Thank you," she said tiredly, "For everything."

"Everything's going to be alright, you just rest," he told her as he pulled the sheet up on her.

Easier done than said, Olivia was out like a light in a couple minutes. Well, tonight had definitely proved one _hell_ of an eye-opening look at the sergeant for this squad. Certainly far more than Hank Voight ever thought he'd find out about one of the New York cops he was going to be stuck working with. He thought back to what Olivia had told him, and an idea came to him. Smirking to himself like a mischievous little kid about to do something he knew was wrong, and not caring because he was just going to do it anyway, he found Olivia's clothes and personal belongings that had been left on a small dresser, and he found her cell phone. Flipping through the contacts, he found the number for Elliot Stabler's cell. He took out his own phone, and dialed the number, maybe this Stabler guy wasn't taking Olivia's calls, but the odds were he'd answer to an unfamiliar number just to find out who the hell it was and how the hell they got his number.

It rang once…twice…three times.

"Stabler," a huffed voice said finally after the third ring.

Showtime. "This is Hank Voight at Mercy General Hospital and I'm calling in regard to an Olivia Benson, she was admitted tonight with head injuries after a serious accident, and you're the only next of kin we have listed."

* * *

Olivia was still dead to world 20 minutes later as Hank got ready to go out and meet the former Detective Stabler. One last look back, it was unreal, _nobody_ ever looked good when they were admitted to the hospital, nobody looked good when they were _staying_ in the hospital, they sure as hell did _not_ look good in those stupid paper hospital gowns. But somehow Olivia managed to do all three of them, even while out cold. Somehow Voight had a sneaking suspicion this woman would manage to look good in _anything_, or even in _nothing_, maybe especially so on the last one.

He went back towards the bed and saw she wasn't stirring. He leaned down and kissed her on the forehead and said to her, though he knew she couldn't hear him, "I'll see you around, pretty girl, take care of yourself."

He left Olivia's room and made a beeline for the front of the hospital, where he saw a younger man with a buzzed short haircut dressed in a hooded sweatshirt and jeans, all but collapsed over the front desk as he said to the administration nurse, "Benson, Olivia Benson, somebody called me about Detective Benson."

"That's Sergeant, actually," Hank spoke up, getting the younger man's attention, "I guess you wouldn't know that though."

"Who're you?" the man asked.

"You're Elliot Stabler, right?" Voight asked, "Sergeant Hank Voight, Chicago P.D."

"You son of a bitch," Elliot said, "You're not a doctor!"

"I never said I was," Voight replied, feigning innocence, "I merely said I was here at the hospital, which I am."

"My partner," Elliot said.

"Ex-partner you mean."

"Where is she? What happened? What _actually_ happened?" Elliot wanted to know.

Hank nodded towards Olivia's room, "Haven't you been watching the news?"

"My father-in-law died, I've been out of town for the week with my wife, we just got back tonight."

"Well you sure missed the fireworks," Voight told him, "You hear about that guy William Lewis?"

"I've read about him in the papers," Elliot said as they walked down the hallway.

"He broke out of prison today, killed three people, including a cop, tracked down Benson and tried to kill her," Voight explained matter-of-factly.

"Is she alright?"

"Well he's dead and she's alive, she's got a concussion, doctors want to keep her a couple days to make sure everything's alright," Hank told him, "She's pretty shaken up, she _did_ mention you, wanted to see you, so I took the initiative to make that happen. It's funny…" he turned around and faced Elliot and said, "But I'd think if I had a partner I had such an extensive history with like you two do, that I'd keep in touch."

It was clear from the look on Elliot's face that Hank had struck a nerve. "She tell you why I left SVU?"

"She told me about the shooting."

"Last straw," Elliot told him, "IAB's had it in for me from the first time I had to get rough with anybody."

"Hey, I hear you," Hank said, "_Believe_ me I get it, but I'm still here."

"Yeah well, I wasn't about to have the brass rip me a new one _again_ because I did what had to be done," Elliot said.

"And that includes cutting off all contact with your partner of _how_ many years?" Hank asked as they stopped outside the door.

"I didn't want to go down that road again," Elliot told him, "I didn't need the memories, I didn't need it all coming back."

"Yeah well, I'm sure that's something Olivia can understand _very_ well right now, but she's going to be stuck with _her_ memories of this whole fiasco for the rest of her life, I'm sure you can appreciate that for her."

From behind the door, they both heard a series of small, choking, gasping sounds that sounded like trouble.

"I believe that's your cue," Hank told Elliot as he turned the knob and let the door open a crack, "After everything she's been put through, you better make it good."

Elliot just about fell in through the door, he entered the room and saw Olivia in the hospital bed twitching and tossing and turning in her sleep; like she was trying to get away from somebody but couldn't move to do it. Elliot went over to the bed and it scared the hell out of him in this instant how small and vulnerable his partner looked.

"Liv, Liv!" he said as he grabbed her around her upper arms to get her attention, "Wake up, Liv, it's me!"

Olivia let out a short yelp and sprang to life gasping and trying to get her bearings straight. "Elliot?"

"It's me, Olivia, what happened, are you alright?"

Not exactly the touching reunion he might've anticipated, once Olivia figured out who was in the room with her, she started hitting Elliot with her fists.

"Where _were_ you?!" she asked him, "Why didn't you answer when I called you!? Do you have any idea what's been going on?"

Elliot wrapped his arms tightly around Olivia to restrain her and he told her, "I know, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…" and it became almost a mantra as he repeated it over and over and over.

Olivia still wanted to hit him, she tried though he had her too tight for it to work, "I needed someone to talk to, Elliot, someone who would understand why I had to do what I did, you're the _only_ one who gets it and you weren't there when I needed you!"

"I know, Liv, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, so sorry," he stroked through her hair and lightly kissed her on the top of her head, not intending to hurt her anymore than she'd already been by what happened tonight.

There were so many things Olivia felt justified in cursing at Elliot, but she couldn't bring herself to get any of them up. Instead she alternated between crying and small animal-like whimpers, and an occasional punching Elliot with one free fist, until finally she felt she'd worn herself completely out. By the time it was over, she was _so_ out of it she didn't realize she was falling asleep leaning against the man she'd just spent an hour pummeling and screaming at, and Elliot was too shocked by what had just happened to move her. Instead he opted for holding onto Olivia while she slept calmly in his arms for probably the first true time in months.

* * *

"Hey look," Elliot said the next morning when he turned on the TV set in Olivia's room, and added sarcastically, "Your friend and mine, Voight."

Olivia had just woken up a little while ago but was still content to lay in bed for a while. When she heard that though, she opened her eyes and sat up to see what was going on.

Hank Voight was present at a press conference that was addressing the matter of William Lewis's escape and ultimate death.

"How the hell did he get his dress uniform shipped over here so fast?" Olivia wondered.

On the TV they saw Voight step to the podium and the microphones and he addressed the press and told them, "William Lewis was responsible for a bare minimum of 20 brutal, barbaric, pointless murders, that we _know_ of; we will never know how many murders he managed to skate free on because of his countless aliases that he used to pass from town to town, state to state, undetected, unidentified because of his purpose mutilation of his fingerprints and his defense attorneys being _oh_ so helpful to be willing to let legal technicalities be overlooked. The last three murders were committed right here in New York state in a grand total of 5 hours, and almost made it _four_ with Sergeant Olivia Benson of Manhattan Special Victims."

The reporters were all trying to be heard over one another, one got through with a coherent question, "Sergeant Voight, are you aware that in the hours before his death, William Lewis publicly accused Sergeant Benson of police brutality, resulting in the numerous injuries he sustained at the time of his arrest?"

Voight shot a killer smug smile for the cameras and answered point-blank, "Criminal psychology 101, _every_ criminal is going to look for a scapegoat to blame for _their_ own premeditated actions, _when_ they get caught. When they're flying high undetected, they don't care about anyone or anything except themselves and their own impulses. When they get caught, _then_ it's time for the crocodile to turn on the tears, saying it's not his fault, he was born that way, or made that way through other people's treatment of him. It's never their fault, first it's their parents' for not paying enough attention to them, then it's every girl in high school who wouldn't go out with them, then it's whoever passes over them for a promotion at work, and yes, even the police who arrest them, sometimes needing to resort to lethal force to subdue dangerous killers. Given that he was able to leave one prison doctor and two prison guards in critical condition at the time of his escape, and kill three people in cold blood within his last 24 hours on this earth, _one_ of them a veteran police officer who served 12 years on the force and leaves behind a grieving wife and five young children now without a father, can _anybody_ say Lewis at _any_ time deserved to be handled with kid gloves and not with a cautionary force to prevent him from escaping again? _This_ I might add on top of him brutally killing his own attorney's father and raping her mother previous to his _last_ arrest, _this_, on top of his last three attorneys previous to that, all winding up brutally murdered in a fashion most similar to his own M.O. Would _anybody_ here want to take a chance of being within five feet of this guy without armed protection?"

"He ought to transfer here," Elliot said, "He knows how to shut them all up _real_ fast."

"He speaks the truth," Olivia told him, "It's _all_ true, all the people Lewis got away with murdering, and still he tried to blame that all on me, for what _I_ did to him."

"Yeah well," Elliot shut the TV off, "I doubt anybody's going to pay much attention to that now. That guy just _annihilated_ anything they could ask."

Olivia managed a small smile, "He's a good cop…almost reminds me of someone I know."

"Ha-ha," Elliot replied. He sat down on the edge of the bed and told her, "I'm sorry, Olivia."

She nodded, "I know…"

"So," he said, "You think those sawbones will let you go home today?"

"I hope so," she replied, "Doubt they'll let me drive though."

Elliot smiled and said, "I'll drive you home."

"Thanks," she said, "Look El…just don't stay gone so long again, okay?"

He nodded and told her, "You got it, anytime you need me, just call."

"I'll hold you to that," Olivia said.

Author's note: The original idea for the story was just a short piece focusing on Voight and Olivia, but I decided to take it a couple years back before she got custody of Baby Noah, and decided to rewrite the final chapter of the William Lewis saga, and THEN decided Elliot needed to be brought in on it as well. So I hope everyone had a good time reading it, this is atypical for my usual fanfiction writing but I had a good time writing it!


End file.
